


Takaeishiweek: Dream/Whiteout

by ghostpun



Category: BIRDMEN - 田辺イエロウ | Tanabe Yellow
Genre: Confessions, First Kiss, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, i think there should be a whiteout tag, whiteout - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 19:21:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19979212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostpun/pseuds/ghostpun
Summary: can you tell i couldn't think of a titleanyways! have some pining takayama





	Takaeishiweek: Dream/Whiteout

**Author's Note:**

> people that say takayama is a distinguished gay are lying to themselves tyvm

He isn’t completely sure why, but Takayama finds himself wandering back into Karasuma’s dreams.

They’ve been reunited for months now, so there was no need for him to show up in them anymore. He should be busy, should be focusing on connecting with the rest of the seven.

But tonight Takayama ends up shifting away from another potential candidate in another far off country, instead reaching out to the warm familiar light of his friend.

The expanse of the world is endlessly white, with the only spark of color to be found was in the small speck that was Karasuma, curled into a ball while his wings quietly rested around him. 

When Takayama floats down to him, he notices that the bellwether is still asleep, his hair drifting around as if submerged in water. His expression so calm, one wouldn’t even notice the stress he was under from their current journey. 

Takayama watches over him for a bit, feels himself smile when Karasuma scrunches his nose ever so slightly to let out a soft snore.

_ “Cute.”  _ Takayama can’t hide the words from echoing around the room, bouncing off the walls in a rhythm.

Takayama knows he couldn’t admit this to an awake Karasuma, their relationship was already complicated enough as it is. But at least here, under the safety of familiarity and with Karasuma asleep, he could allow himself to admit what he’s been feeling. 

Karasuma had that effect on him — always bringing out the most innocent, human emotions Takayama didn’t even think he still had.

The short boy shifts a little bit, before he slowly opens his eyes, registering what was going on.

“Takayama?” He blinks in confusion, and Takayama smiles in response. Karasuma stifles a yawn, and pouts in that way that has Takayama want to photograph this moment to remember forever. 

“What are we doing here? If you needed to talk, you know I’m down the hall.” 

Takayama knew that, of course, but that’s not why he came here. 

_ But why  _ did _ I come here? _

He still doesn’t know, there was no reason for starting this in the first place. 

Karasuma drifts back a bit, not even noticing when a strand of his hair falls over his eyes. The sight has Takayama’s heart ache in a weird, indescribable way that flares fire on his cheeks and casts sparks down to his fingertips. 

He doesn’t realize his hand moved on its own accord until it’s too late: he brushes the stray strand from Karasuma’s forehead to safely behind his ear. 

His friend was blushing now, a deep crimson spreading across his face, the tips of his ears, and probably down his neck. 

Takayama always likes seeing Karasuma blush. 

Really, Takayama just always likes seeing Karasuma.

Takayama’s heart does a flip inside his ribcage as he slowly moves his hand down to cup the side of Karasuma’s cheek.

The other doesn’t jerk away from the motion—a good sign—but his eyes move frantically from side to side, occasionally landing on Takayama. After a few moments he lets out a small “ _ um _ ”—a sound that pulls Takayama to glance down at his lips for a split second before jerking his eyes up. He hesitantly locks eyes with the other, Karasuma’s eyes wide open. Normally pitch-black, instead they now reflect a shimmering ruby that creeps up from the bottom and disappears into ink. Takayama’s stomach does somersaults.

Karasuma takes a shaky breath in, slowly raises his hand up and anchors it around Takayama’s wrist as if to toss it off, but he merely stays frozen, eyes continuing to wander around the other boy’s face as he tries to think. He notes Karasuma landing his eyes on his lips for a bit longer than anywhere else, and the realization kicks off something in Takayama’s heart. And when Karasuma tries to say his friend’s name, Takayama throws caution to the wind and impulsively swoops forward and kisses him. 

It’s only for a split second, and just as fast as he leaned forward Takayama whips his head back. The realization and fear and  _ every emotion ever _ suddenly smacking him in the recoil and he’s left panicked. Karasuma stares back, unmoving, and his stillness does nothing to stop the rock sinking in Takayama’s stomach.

It’s been a while since Takayama’s last felt such anxiety, but now it bubbled to the surface with enough force to knock the wind out of him.

Some voice in the back of his head screams in a panic like a whistling tea kettle, and every nerve stands on end tells him to  _ run _ . 

“I-” Takayama gulps, focuses his energy on willing this space to end. “I’m sorry.”

As the whiteout begins to slowly crumble apart, he watches as Karasuma comes back to life, shaken out of his daze. The bellwether desperately tries to tell him to wait, reaches his hand out in an attempt to grab his wrist, but it’s too late.

Takayama forces himself awake, snapping his eyes open and sitting straight up, breathing hard.

Why did he do that?

It was selfish, completely off the beaten path of the many plans he had formed. 

Adrenaline beats in his ears, and his lips tingle, and Takayama is practically running a fever.

He swiftly maneuvers out of the hotel bed and bursts out onto the balcony, hoping the cold night air helps calm him down. He summons his wing mass, not even caring that the borrowed clothes he wears is torn to shreds.

Running a hand through his hair, Takayama tries to pull together his thoughts. Karasuma wasn’t confrontational unless he really wanted to be, so Takayama might have some time to figure out a way to explain suddenly kissing him. Or maybe he’ll avoid him until Karasuma finds it too awkward to bring it up again. 

Somewhere in the building, a door is roughly tossed open, the bordered frame rattling against the side. Takayama stills, feeling someone flying around, before a figure lands next to him with a  _ thump _ .

Okay, so maybe Karasuma would get here earlier than he thought.

Karasuma looks at him, eyes shining in that special way that the other noticed lately has only been for him. 

The bellwether’s cheeks are dusted with red, eyebrows screwed together and mouth in a tight line. 

Just looking at him made Takayama’s heart beat impossibly faster.

Karasuma seems to struggle for the words, eyes flickering around and his hands making hesitant fidgety motions, tapping against his thighs, intertwining fingers together, cracking knuckles. Takayama would give anything to hold Karasuma’s hand right now, kiss his knuckles and hold it close to his own and not let go. 

_ Focus, Sou. _

Karasuma clears his throat, before staring up at him. 

“Why did you kiss me?” 

He practically whispers it, and the contrast to his usual boisterous self had Takayama feeling dizzy. 

What could he say? Words were so hard to form, and trying to express an emotion so intimate fell short on Takayama’s lonely tongue, and he couldn’t find the vocabulary to say  _ I think I’m in love with you. _

Karasuma steps closer to him, softly says his name, places a hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

Takayama can feel the jumble of emotions lying beneath Karasuma’s facade of calm. Despite everything, Karasuma’s voice was still just as loud and honest as ever.

He lets out a sigh, knows Karasuma is begging to gain some insight into the situation. He had flung himself over here instead of caging himself away and thinking things through like usual. 

Takayama gently places his hand upon the one still on his shoulder, and thinks about everything that’s happened over the past many months. 

Snippets of Karasuma swim around in his mind, all from different times and with different expressions: Karasuma’s red gaze piercing into the sky during his awakening, his angry snarl at something Takayama couldn’t remember, and his shadowed face as he takes his place as a leader. But also images of Karasuma’s bright smile after laughing too hard, his goofy grin after discovering another thing about their wingmass, or his eyes full of softness as he watches their friends messing around.

Takayama hears Karasuma’s breath hitch, and it reminds him not to drown them both in memories. He lets the quiet take hold again as he steps back. They stay there, still for a moment, as Karasuma tries to piece his thoughts together 

After what seems like forever, the shorter boy suddenly moves his arms, wraps them around Takayama’s neck, and pulls him into a tight hug. Takayama automatically returns it, moving his arms around Karasuma’s waist and resting his chin back on the shorter boy’s shoulder.

Karasuma takes a shuttery breath in 

“I’m no good at this romance stuff.” Karasuma mumbles into the night air, “But...did you want to go on a date, sometime?”

Takayama nods his head, the movement pressing against the other’s shoulder as they both just hold onto each other.

Eventually, they have to break apart, Karasuma sheepishly looking from him to the nearby horizon. He bites his cheek before leaning up and pressing a quick kiss on Takayama’s cheek.

Takayama feels himself blush, his hand reaching up to touch the place where Karasuma’s lips just were.

“You didn’t let me reciprocate earlier.” Karasuma explains, face turning into one of a soft, happy smile. Takayama wants to see that smile every day, for the rest of his life. “We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

Takayama voice slightly breaks as he breathes out.

“Okay.”


End file.
